Corridor of Time

Thomas walked through a corridor, the walls were covered in wallpaper in the style of nineteen-twenties American décor. Doors lined the corridor, each door was a rich oak color with black metal handles. None of the doors could be opened except one. At the end of the hall was a door made of white marble, it looked heavy and unmovable but glimmered with an otherworldly luminescence.

Thomas walked briskly towards the marble door, his black dress shoes scuffed against the long strip of floral carpeting that ran down the center of the corridors hardwood floor. Thomas’ brisk walk turned into a run, his dress pants making a swishing sound as he went. The corridor was silent except for the noise Thomas made as he tried to reach the white door.

The more Thomas ran the longer the corridor seemed to be but he was determined to reach the door. He didn’t know why he was so driven to this door or how long he had been running, he didn’t bother looking back or try to open any other door, his goal was straight ahead and he was in a full sprint as he tried to reach it.

Details of the door were revealed as he drew closer. The door had a gold lining, along the edges and made a square pattern in the center of the door. A small golden crest of a lion head was next to the silver handle of the door. The door was opened slightly, a shaft of light beamed out through it, dust particles floated and danced in the air, reflecting the light shining on it.

Thomas finally reached the door, he stopped for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. He took off his hat and his suit jacket then wiped sweat from his head. He felt like he had been running for miles in his dark gray suit but didn’t bother looking back to check how far he had traveled.

As regained his composure he heard the light pattering of rain on the other side of the door. A cool breeze blew through the small opening and the rain sound grew louder. Thomas reached for the handle and as soon as he touched the doorknob the door slammed shut. Thomas stood there stunned his hand still outstretched now only grasping air instead of the silver handle.

At this point Thomas thought about trying a different door, maybe another door entirely. There were so many brown wooden doors in the corridor that one of them would open. Thomas thought about this for several seconds and though it was only seconds the seriousness of the decision made if feel like an eternity. Thomas felt that going through a door was one of the most important decisions of his life and while he wanted to open the white marble door he worried he would be wasting his time on the flashy door and never get to leave the corridor at all.

Thomas reached his hand out again for the silver doorknob of the marble door. The golden lion emblem protruded out form the door and cut Thomas’ hand as he grasped the handle. Blood trickled from his hand and coated the golden lion’s mouth but Thomas continued to turn the silver doorknob.

Thomas twisted the handle of the door, his hand gathering cuts and scraps as he went. The golden lion was not a mighty guardian standing in his way, but the continued cuts and bleeding made Thomas reconsider his actions. Even though doubt was growing in him, he continued. He turned the handle all the way and pulled the door open. Though it appeared to be made of heavy marble, the door opened with ease. Thomas pulled his hand from the door, acquiring one last scrape from the golden lion.

The sound of rain could be heard in full, a gentle breeze rolled into the corridor from the other side of the door. Light was cast down over Thomas. It was warm and inviting. Thomas put his suit jack and hat back on and stepped through the door. This wasn’t the end for him but it was certainly the beginning of something wonderful.

Joseph Stephens and the Clover brawl part 2

            It was a quiet St. Patrick’s day evening, the grass was green the trees were starting to bloom and everyone was having a good time consuming low level poisons that tasted like bread and happiness. On the outskirts of town was a pub that the locals referred to as “The Clover”. Joseph Stephens and Jaye Williams stood in the demolished bar as a whole group of magical and ‘roided out bros stared them down. Joseph and Jaye glowed with a golden light from the magical Irish stout they drank in the basement of the bar and they were ready to show these jerks not to mess with people who just want to mind their own business. Wizbro smiled from under his amber-crombi brand hood. Joseph ran forward with the fury of a guy who was picked on in high school and now has magical powers. Joseph swung at the Wizbro and midair Joseph’s arm turned to stone. The stone punch connected with Wizbro’s face. The stone fist shattered his good looks and the other bros quickly leaped on him and devoured him to gain his power. The Bros can smell weakness and hate the weakness in themselves as well as others, so they seek to destroy all who are considered ‘less’ than themselves. Also Wizbro was magical so eating his flesh could give people magic.

            RoidBro stepped up in his place, now surging with some small amount of magic stolen from Wizbro and veins filled with illegal drugs he charged at Joseph and punched Joseph so hard he flew backward, destroying a support beam and part of the wall as he went. “No one beats on him but me!” Jaye shouted, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a claw hammer engulfed in flames. “Flaaaame Hammar!” He shouted, hoping his catch phase would catch on. He then threw the hammer with all of his magical strength. it whirled through the air at Roidbro. Before it could hit, Roidbro caught it out of the air and began to laugh. His laughing was interrupted as the flames from the hammer spread out along his arm and then quickly covered his whole body in scorching flames. RoidBro slammed his palms on the ground causing a shockwave which extinguished the flames. RoidBro was too late though and his shockwave was his last act. Roidbro fell over and hit the ground with such force it shattered the floor under him and his body fell into the cellar.

            Several Bros charged Jaye at the same time, unaffected by another fellow council member’s death. “I am starting to think this group is more about picking fights than sticking together” Jaye said as the group rushed at him. Jaye jumped in the air causing wind to start spinning around his body, when he landed the wind was discharged and sent out rushing toward the group. Hurricane winds blasted back the bros and shattered all the windows in the building. Jill was taking cover behind the bar and when the hurricane winds blasted out the windows she went into the basement.

            Every time Joseph or Jaye took out a Bro there always seemed to be more to take their place. Joseph tried to focus his energy, all of his golden energy focused into his hands and he shot it into the air. He used all of his power but was still drunk. Joseph fell over from exhaustion and because he was a lightweight. As soon as he hit the floor a crack of thunder shook the sky. Rain began to pour down and a bolt of lighting shot down through the ceiling and struck a group of bros, blasting them to ashes. The bar caught fire from the lighting strike and the wind from the storm spread the fire over the wooden furniture. Jaye realized how serious it was getting and grabbed his friend. Jaye used the last of his energy to teleport both of them a twenty feet away from the bar and outside. Jaye then remembered Jill the bartender was still in bar. He started to run toward the bar when he saw a group of Bros charging in over the horizon like a vicious army of beasts. Then the redheaded bartended blasted out of the bar, glowing with energy and using wind magic to fly. She drank the rest of the Legendary Irish Stout and now surged with power. The bros were furious as they charged the bar. Jill the bartender charged up a ball of fire and then launched a stream of flames out from her hands. The bar, the army of bros and any grass in the area was consumed by flames as the flying bartended laughed hysterically.

            Time passed, the rains extinguished the flames and Jill, Jaye and Joseph had all sobered up and exhausted their magic. There was nothing left of the bar, just scorched ground and ash. Joseph had regained consciousness and was staring at the spot where the bar used to be. “We did the world a service getting rid of those bros” said Jill. “What will you do now? Asked Joseph. “Maybe the Owner will sell me the land cheap, I could start my own bar. Not a gimmicky bar, just something nice to call my own” Jill replied. “Can we get free drinks?” Jaye asked excitedly. “If you help me build it” Jill replied. “Well that’s a deal!” both Jaye and Joseph said at the same time.

            It was a cold, rainy night, St. Patricks day was almost over. Joseph could think of better ways to spend his day, but having a drunken magic fueled brawl while ridding the world of a dozen or more Bros is still pretty great.

Where do your Dreams go?

            Where do your dreams go when you die?

I have never been one to fear death. I’ve led a life of hardships and pain, both physical and emotional. My life has not been all bad but my worst experiences could be written and sold as horror stories. When nightmares consume your childhood what is so fearsome about death? Nothing. Death scares the young and the healthy. People have their reasons why they want to live but the real reason is primitive survival. The human brain in all of its complexity still operates from basic desires. A human wants to live so that it can reproduce and make more humans. All species need this urge to survive. Growing up sick and in pain alters your brain. Its natures way of saying “You wont reproduce so death is ok. You are allowed to die” This might sound cruel but anyone who has seen a nature documentary will know its true. Nature effects humans just the same as it effects animals.

            I am now afraid to die and strive to live. One day I found a light in the darkness. It was a boundless imagination that led me to my love of fantasy. I played in the fictional worlds of others. Humans created video games and books, they used their brains for something more than basic desires. They created these worlds and I was lost and entranced. In these worlds the hero won, the darkness could be fought and if you believe hard enough nothing can stop you. Memories of life funneled through creative process and turned into dreams. The Dreams written down and turned into fiction and the fiction sold and consumed. Once consumed the fiction is released back into dreams and stimulates the mind. The mind then begins to create its own dreams and its own fiction. What if that tree was sixty feet tall and contained an entire village of elves? Its not sixty feet tall and only birds live in it, but what if? What if the world was a better and more magical place? What if people got along? What if trying your best actually made a difference? The thoughts in your brain turn and focus. Your experiences color both your fantasy and reality. How you perceive people depends on how you were raised just like if I told you to imagine a drugtor you might think of something totally different than someone else. Others may just realize Drugtor is a word I just made up and not bother imagining anything.

            So where DO dreams go when you die? And why does my ability to imagine a dragtor make me want to live?

            Well I honestly do not know where dreams go and that is why I fear death. In my head I have my memories, story ideas, characters, dreams, goals and a whole library of random animal trivia. Its precious to me, I can recall times that I spent with my friends or family, moments long since passed that my brain keeps preserved for as long as I live. Happy moments and memories that make me smile to this day. I can create fictional worlds and characters in a day, I can imagine those places and if I close my eyes I can see every single place I have ever written about. I fear death because when a person dies, what happens to those precious memories and all of the stories they haven’t written yet? My fear is that they simply go away forever.

            Great authors through the ages wrote stories that are still read and enjoyed hundreds of years later, but what happened to the stories they didn’t write? All of the possible life they could have breathed into the world is now gone. All that remains is their stories, echoes of a mind that could create anything out of nothing.

            I do not fear not existing, not breeding, not being able to eat hamburgers, I fear not being able to tell stories.

            So what if I had to answer to my own question? What if I just wrote a happy ending? What if?

            When you die your dreams live on with you. The stories you wrote continue to entertain the living but all of the worlds you create in your head, the characters that are all secretly part of your own personality, your dreams, your wishes and all of the memories you hold so dear from your life, they go with you. They all travel with you to the next world.  a world of peace and happiness and a world where the heroes won, the darkness could be fought and if you believe hard enough nothing can stop you.

Rain Eternal

The pouring rain, I can hear it. I stare off at a freshly plowed road, snow continues to fall in defiance of the humans who attempt to remove the frozen nuisance from their path. Dirty snow sits in clumps and mounds at the edge of every road and walkway. Winter has dragged on long enough, like a pest that refuses to leave the house or an ex who refuses to stop calling your phone, the winter wears out its welcome.

            The gentle fall of snow is deceptive, it looks like something delicate and pure. The sight of it should calm any who look upon it, but the snow slows travel and accumulates in such mass that its removal causes more hardship on the lives that are already dealing with such of pain. Delicate but consuming, it comes around every year and stays till there is nothing left of you. The cold is bitter, it pains my bones and tenses my muscles. The gray sky depresses and the winter drags on.

            I can hear the rain, I hear it approaching. I close my eyes and I can almost hear the sound of raindrops on my roof. I can still remember the fresh smell of the air after the rain and the cool refreshing breeze of spring. My spirit is tired and worn from years of cold air touching my skin. Some may say the rain is depressing, but I say it is not. Rain is life. It is Water from the heavens pouring down on the people, nourishing the land and warming out spirits.

            The rain will come, when I do not know. But when it does I will leave this land of strife. I will walk outside, into the rain and disappear. To be transported to a place of warm air and rain eternal. This is my dream.

Nathan and the Haunted Forest (part 2 of 2)

In the dark and creepy scenery of the Haunted Forest, rests a quiet little house.

This house looks warm and inviting, soft music could be heard from inside and a small garden filled with lovely flowers runs along either side of the house.

            Inside this lovely house was an elderly couple, just as sweet and innocent as can be. A house guest recently arrived at the house and was now being treated to soft music, stories of the old days and the nicest shackles and chains anyone could ask for.

            Nathan sat in the basement of the house, chained to the wall and chewing on candy he had stored in his pockets. “Just great, I should never have trusted those old people. There isn’t even any candy down here!” Nathan said to himself through a mouthful of maple candy.

            The basement was divided into three separate rooms, once you walk down the stairs there is the ‘guest room’ where Nathan was being held. The back of that room had a door, where the old man was sharpening knives. The second room had a tool bench, a stool and a wall covered in knives and chains. Nathan didn’t even want to think about what was in the third room.

            Then there was a knock on the door. The old woman who was still sitting upstairs grinned, showing off a pair of razor sharp teeth. She moved to the door, almost floating as she moved. With the sweetest smile and the nicest voice she answered the door. Nathan could hear her echoed voice from the basement. “hello?” said the woman. “No, I don’t believe so…” She replied. The visitor’s voice was too distant to hear. “you are welcome to come in and look” Said the woman. The door opened, then closed. The door locked and two sets of feet began walking down the stairs into the basement. “Well at least I wont be alone” Nathan sighed.

            The old woman smiled as she led the way, only Nathan could see her real teeth. The stranger followed the woman into the waiting trap. The old man sat at the bottom of the stairs with a net, rope and a newly sharpened knife. “I think your friend might be here after all” said the woman just as they were about to reach the bottom of the stairs. Then without warning, the old woman was struck hard on the top of the head with a hammer. “Urg” was all she could say as she collapsed and rolled down the stairs. The stranger ran down toward Nathan. “Look out!” Nathan shouted through a mouthful of candy. He unwrapped another piece and put that in his mouth to join the others.

            The stranger turned around and saw the old man. The old man was smashed over the head with a metal mallet, but not before he slashed the stranger across the chest. The old man stumbled and the stranger rushed over to Nathan. “Come on, we gotta get out of here” Said the stranger. It was so dark in the basement Nathan just now recognized the man as his friend Stephen the goat farmer. Stephen broke the chains with his hammer and helped his friend stand. “How did you find me?” Nathan asked. Stephen smiled “I followed the candy wrappers” Stephen replied.

            The Old man charged at Stephen with a knife about to stab the poor farmer in the back. Reacting quickly and using the infinite energy supplied by eating gluttonous amounts of candy, Nathan leapt forward and hit the old man with a leaping Nathan punch. It was called this, because it was a move invented by Nathan and he was terrible at naming things.

            The punch was so STRONG, that the old man spun around and slammed against the wall after being struck. “One more thing, how did you know these old people were monsters?” Nathan asked as they walked up the basement stairs. “They were monsters?” Stephen replied. “Haha, oh yeah, I forgot that you are completely insane” Nathan laughed. Joking aside, Nathan never let Stephen meet his parents or grandparents. Stephen wasn’t completely stable and this was a problem sometimes.

            Nathan and Stephen stepped out into the cold, murky air of the Haunted Forest. “Ahhh, Fresh air! Well, sort of” Nathan said. “so how do we get home from here?” Nathan asked. He turned to Stephen, who was now busily burning down the house of the old couple. “Hm? What did you say?” Stephen asked, he seemed distracted at the task at hand. Which was arson. Nathan noticed the trail of candy wrappers that lead back home but then noticed another trail. This second trail was the original trail of maple candy he was following. He thought it ended here, but in fact it went off deeper into the forest.

            “NO! we are going home!” Stephen said. “But…I want to see who dropped all of this candy!” Nathan replied. Stephen sighed. “Ok, but only because I am incredibly curious about it too. just save some candy for me” Stephen said. “Wha?” Nathan half said with a mouthful of candy. He was already three candies in on the trail before Stephen could even agree to anything.

            The two men followed the trail of candy for an hour, eating candy as they went. To their amazement, when the trees parted they found a town. It was Hallows end. “We made it to Hallows End before Halloween!” Stephen said excitedly. The two friends ran into town, Nathan picked up any stray candies he found as they went. The trail ended at a store. There were crates of Maple candies stacked outside of a giant Halloween candy store and one of the crates had a very small hole in it. “They must have traveled through the autumn forest and the haunted forest just to deliver these candy crates to Hallows End before Halloween!” Stephen said. He was glad that question was finally answered and excited that this mystery brought them all the way to Hallows End.

            Nathan was already inside the candy store at this point. The store, named “the candied Pumpkin” Had a large sign, shaped and painted to look like a Jack o Lantern trick or treat bucket. With pieces of candy overflowing from the bucket and across the sign was the name of the store. The pumpkin bucket was orange, with eyes painted black and the candy wrappers were painted different colors, orange and black, pink and white and yellow and red. The inside of the store was full of different colored lights, bins full of every kind of candy you  could ever hope to eat and if you bought enough candy to fill one of the trick or treat buckets than you got the bucket for free. Nathan came out of the store with two free trick or treat buckets full of candy. “here, thanks for saving my life or whatever” Nathan said shyly then gave Stephen one of the tick or treat plastic buckets. Stephen’s had a skeleton face on it and was painted white, Nathan had the original orange Jack o lantern.

            The two sat down on the yellowed autumn grass, on a hill just on the edge of town. It was night, the stars sparkled and Hallows End lit up with yellow and orange lights. Lanterns with various colored fire, orange lights. Pumpkin decorations and the large Jack o Lantern at the center of town burned brightly for all to see. The two looked down at the town and rested as they ate candy. “Happy Halloween buddy” Stephen said with a smile. “Happy Halloween” Nathan replied.

Felix and the Trick or treat

            On a cool autumn night a small black cat wearing a small black hat, sat on a fence. The cat had a collar, attached to the collar was a little black bowtie. Below the bowtie hung the nametag. “Felix” was engraved on the small metal oval hanging from the cat’s orange color. With the combination of the gentleman’s hat and bowtie, Felix looked like he was ready for a night on the town. More accurately his owners dressed him up for Halloween before letting him out for the night. Despite not dressing himself Felix still walked with a certain level of confidence and looked handsome in his little outfit.

            A full moon lit up the sky and stars sparkled like diamonds against black satin. The town of “Maple Hill” was small and rural. It was a safe town and most people knew their neighbors. On Halloween Parents felt safe enough to let their kids trick or treat without an adult, usually an older sibling would look after the younger ones, or a child would go with friends. Felix bounced a little as he walked. The crisp air and the smell of baked goods tickled his nose and gave him energy. The sound of crunching leaves mixed with the giggling of children and the low howl of the wind.

            As Felix enjoyed his night of strolling the town he saw an unfamiliar cat. He knew every cat in the neighborhood just as the humans knew at least the face of every person in town. This cat was a girl cat, she was all black and had piercing green eyes. She wasn’t dressed up and didn’t have a collar. Felix was enchanted and walked right up to the slender black cat. Felix’s yellow eyes, black fur and black and orange outfit looked great on Halloween night, but somehow this new cat seemed to fit the night even better.

            As he approached this cat, she turned to him and smiled. Which was strange because cats can’t really ‘smile’. Felix stopped and was more cautious when he approached. The Female cat patted Felix’s head. Then turned to leave. Felix was about to approach but before he could the black cat turned into a crow, black with emerald green eyes. The crow looked at Felix as he stumbled backward. Then without a word or even a caw, the crow took off silently into the night.

            Halloween is a special time of the year when people dress up, eat candy and just for a brief time just might believe magic is real. On Halloween it doesn’t matter if you are a human or a cat, if something looks strange, maybe give it a second look.

Memories of a Stranger - Yuri

Henry sat in the “Good Times bar”, smoke filled the room and he clutched his glass of scotch. It was a pretty quiet night at the bar. On weekends it got crowded and rowdy, but on weeknights, it was only the sad old bastards that lingered. Blues and rock style music played in the background. The music mixed with the whispered conversations from the patrons at the tables toward the back, all of this mixed together and just sounded like noise.

Henry was thirty, hardly an old bastard, well hardly old. He came to this bar every night for two reasons, his love of scotch whiskey and the information and gossip he would hear around the bar. People were always so loose with their secrets, especially on slow nights when it seems like no one is listening. Henry was an freelance investigative journalist. He would risk his neck for the top stories and sell them to the highest bidder. He made a good living off of this and found it was better than sitting at a desk all day.

Henry wore an old trench coat and a matching fedora, he had shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He always looked like he needed a shower and a shave, though he did bathe regularly and shaved occasionally…and never flossed.

On this particular night, Henry heard two old men talking. ‘old’ is so relative. So instead of using it to describe an actual number like 70, he used the term to describe appearance. For instance, Henry wasn’t old, but he seemed old. So he often referred to himself as an old bastard. So Henry was watching these two old guys and listening in on their conversation. At first it sounded like they were talking about catching fish. These men looked like they could be fishermen. Not ‘Sunday morning fishing with your son’ kind of fishermen, the real kind. The kind that go out into the ocean and catch all the fish in the ocean so the humans on land can gorge themselves on more types of food. So anyway, back to the fish. These sly old geezers who were probably not any older than sixty, talked about fish and for an hour it sounded like they were just talking about fish. But then Henry heard something interesting. The term fish used in the wrong context or in the wrong way. Henry was pretty drunk by this point but as the conversation went on, it sounded like the word ‘fish’ was code for something else and when someone says. “The fish drop is tonight” it starts to sound like someone is talking about drugs.

Henry began scribbling in his note pad that he keeps in his coat. he wanted to make sure he didn’t forget any of the details. Henry wrote as the men talked. “The fish will be at the warehouse. Someone needs to come and get it” Said one of the men. Henry scribbled furiously. The weather that night was in the fifties and it was sprinkling rain. Cool weather, but not cold enough to keep fish fresh in some warehouse. “Wouldn’t they refer to the fish as ‘them’ not ‘it’?” Henry thought. He was pretty drunk though and wondered if he was just getting suspicious for no reason.

Then something happened that no one would ever expect to happen in a million years. A girl walked into the “Good Times” bar. The door opened and shut and the customers casually turned their heads to see who it was, as they did every time someone entered. This time though, the customer’s eyes were fixed on the newcomer. “Hey how can I help y-“ The bartender started to say then saw the girl standing at the bar. “-You?”  He finished his sentence and smiled. The girl looked to be about 25 was 5’6, thin but with subtle sexy curves. She wore a short-sleeved dress shirt un-tucked, black slacks and black dress shoes. Her hair was short and styled and dyed purple. Any skin showing showed lean toned muscle. She walked in with confidence and a sense of purpose. “Scotch neat” The girl said flatly. The bartender smiled and fixed her drink. Henry looked at the girl, he was the only one at the bar who hadn’t been staring at her like an idiot this whole time. He only looked because she ordered the same thing he had been drinking. He looked and she looked back. He smiled and held up his glass to show he had the same drink. Then he went back to drinking.

Henry was trying to listen to these ‘fishermen’ talk, but they stopped because they were too busy staring at the attractive young girl in the bar. “Old perverts” Henry grumbled. He wrote down most of the information he needed already, but could have used a few more details. “Whatcha working on?” asked the girl as she said down next to Henry. “Just some notes. So I see you like scotch” Henry said, changing the subject. The girl brushed a bit of purple hair out of her eyes and smiled “Yeah, its what my dad drank and he was tough as nails. So when I was a teenager I tried it and now I’m just used to it. Its like comfort food” The girl replied. Henry laughed. It was one of those laughs that came out so unexpectedly, like it forced its way out. “Heheh, scotch sure is comfort food for me too” he said. “My names Yuri” the girl said as she reached out her hand for a shake. Henry wiped his hands on his pants to get rid of any booze or sweat then shook her hand. “Names Henry. Yuri, that’s a strange name. No offense though” Henry said

Yuri chuckled “My father was Japanese. But I grew up in America. We settled in this city when I was a kid” Yuri explained. “Poor kid, having to grow up here” Henry replied without thinking. “I mean, Im sure you lived in a fine part of…” Henry added but Yuri stopped him. “Its fine. Don’t worry about it.” She said with a smile.

            Meanwhile one of the bar patrons didn’t like how chummy Henry was getting with the new girl. He was mad because this hot young girl came into the bar and sat right down next to the biggest bum in the whole bar. “Hey, Buddy. Yer bothering the lady” Said a muscular man that looked to be in his late thirties. “I was sitting here first. She sat next to me. Maybe she is the one bothering me! I don’t see you defending my honor. Am I not pretty enough?” Henry told the guy. Yuri chuckled. Henry hadn’t even turned around in his chair to say this to the man’s face. The muscular man grabbed onto the back of Henry’s coat and tried to pull him off his barstool. Before he could though, Yuri had jumped out of her seat and slammed a fist down onto the bully’s wrist, breaking his wrist. She then moved in front of him and gave him a right and left hook to the face.

The muscular man only had a chance to grab Henries coat before he was dispatched. He laid on the ground with a broken wrist and two black eyes.

Yuri sat back down and sipped her drink. Henry was smiling ear to ear. “Your quick, I should hire you to be my bodyguard” He said. “Well I could use the money and no one seems to like you around here” Yuri replied. Henry meant it as a joke, but once he thought about it, he realized it might be a good deal. “You’re hired.” He said. Yuri gave a little cheer in Japanese. Henry smiled and then looked over at the old ‘fishermen’ by this point they had run off, Probably from all the commotion. Henry might have lost the rest of his lead, but he did gain a bodyguard. So that is almost as good. He just hoped She didn’t bring more trouble with her. Henry had as much excitement as he could take for a while.